


With You (I Know I'm Home)

by Ceris_Malfoy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 50 prompts challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always-a-girl!Stiles, Deaton may turn out to be a bad-guy, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Hurt!Stiles, I promise no one is getting unfairly critisized, NON-LINEAR story, No character bashing, Peter being sneaky, Rule63!Stiles, Stilinski Family Feels, Tags to be added as needed, Teenage Pregnancy, begins directly after season 2 finale, but other characters slip in every now and then, just dealing with actual issues that I have with various characters, mostly Stiles POV, not sure, touch as an anchor, unreliabe narrators, warning: the Sheriff is going to die, will contain mentions of stuff from season 3a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceris_Malfoy/pseuds/Ceris_Malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If, later on, Stiles would be forced to choose a single moment in time where this thing between her and Peter begins, it wouldn’t be that night in the garage, though that night does play a large significance to their interactions after he resurrects himself. No, if she would have to choose one moment in time, it would be the night Jackson is killed, revived, killed, and revived.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start

**Author's Note:**

> This whole work is part of a 50 Prompts Challenge I liked the looks of. This is mostly a personal challenge to get my ass back in gear on writing after the flash-drive crash made me want to rage-quit writing. The challenge can be found here: http://harmony283.livejournal.com/130493.html - though I admit I did change out some words. If I did, I will put a note next to the prompt I chose.
> 
> I'm doing them all out of order, as I find inspiration for them, so warnings for that. Do not expect a unilateral story! When all of them get done, I'll post a directory with the prompts in timeline-order, though most should be pretty self-explanatory. 
> 
> Main pairing is, of course, Peter/Stiles, though other relationships may pop in. Mostly Derek/Stiles broshipping. Because I think it's completely necessary.

 

**Prompt # 10: Start**

**_(Original prompt was 'tip')_  
**

_ [stahrt]  _

_ verb (used without object) _

_1. to begin or [set](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/set) out, as on a journey or activity._

  
_2. to appear or come suddenly into action, life, view, etc.; rise or issue suddenly forth._

__

If, later on, Stiles would be forced to choose a single moment in time where this thing between her and Peter begins, it wouldn’t be that night in the garage, though that night does play a large significance to their interactions after he resurrects himself. No, if she would have to choose one moment in time, it would be the night Jackson is killed, revived, killed, and revived.

Stiles is standing just behind Scott, watching Lydia declare her undying love to Jackson, feeling like her heart is breaking as she is forced to acknowledge that she will never have a chance with her five-year crush. There is no room in Lydia’s heart for Genim ‘Stiles’ Stilinski as anything other than a friend, and it _hurts_. It hurts so much. The thing about Stiles is that Stiles is an intensely passionate girl underneath all her sarcasm and dry wit, and once she gives herself to something, _someone_ , she does so whole-heartedly. Lydia has been the center of her universe for years now, and it does not even _matter_. _Stiles_ does not matter, not to Lydia.

Not to anyone, currently, not in the way she is coming to find she desperately needs.

Of everyone in the warehouse, Lydia and Jackson are Lydia-and-Jackson, and there is _nothing_ there for Stiles. Isaac… well. She does not know Isaac, not really, and she does not think that is going to change anytime soon. She doesn’t really like him, and outright hates the ease with which he and Scott gravitate towards each other. Derek has his own problems to worry about, not the least of which is the two missing betas that Stiles _knows_ was released shortly after she was. But they’re not here, and she doesn’t understand _why_.

Chris Argent is leading Allison out, apparently not wanting to linger long, both following the trail of blackened blood, presumably on the hunt for Gerard. She does not blame him, even though she knows he won’t kill his father. She’d be worried about that, but she’s so tired.

And Scott… Scott is concerned only with Allison, and has been since the day the girl walked into their classroom. Scott, her brother in all but blood, turned his back on years of history and metaphorically walked away from Stiles, all for _Allison_. Stiles would be bitter about this, but deep down she knows that Scott has always been made for better things, better _people,_ than Stiles. She is happy for him, glad that he has found someone to love so intensely, ecstatic that Allison appears to return those feelings, but she cannot help but feel a little abandoned at the same time. Aside from her dad, Scott is really all she has.

As for her father… _God_. There is a can of worms she does not need to be thinking about opening right now.

She looks around the warehouse, lost and hurting and wondering how this became her life, how she could just stand there and passively let everything she has ever wanted slip through her fingers; wondering  what she is supposed to do now that everything is falling apart. And then she sees _him_.

Peter Hale.

Peter, who is supposed to be dead and buried, not just _standing_ there beside Derek, watching her with this _look_ on his face. She can see it written on his face – that strange little grin and the fever-bright shine to his blue eyes and the way he never blinks – he remembers that night in the garage just as clearly as she does. She stares back at him, even as she is inching away, clutching her wrist where a phantom touch tingles against the skin. She backs away like she could ever escape him now in the flesh when he haunts her _dreams_ – and so she notices when the way he’s looking at her changes, how his strange grin slowly morphs into an equally strange frown. She knows that new look, has seen that look on her father’s face back before the lies (and corpses) started piling up. It is a look of quiet concern, a look he has no business directing her way. Peter does not even _know_ Stiles, not really, their little conversation be _damned_ , so there is no reason he should be watching her like he _knows_ she is three steps away from falling apart.

She does not linger at the warehouse for long. The second it looks like the Lydia-and-Jackson side-show is over and she will not be needed, she jumps in her jeep and hightails it out of there, unable to resist looking in the rear-view mirror to catch a last fleeting glimpse of Peter Hale.

Who is watching her still.

_  
_


	2. Arrest

**Prompt #26: Arrest**

_ [uh-rest] _

_ verb (used with object) _

_ 3. _

_to check the course of; stop; slow down: to arrest progress. _

_ noun _

_ 7. _

_an act of stopping or the state of being stopped: the arrest of tooth decay. _

  
  
  
  
  


Stiles stares at Deaton, unable to comprehend the words that are leaving his mouth. At her side, Allison and Scott are nodding, accepting that this may be their only option to save their parents. And maybe it is and maybe it isn't, but Stiles' choice isn't quite that simple to make. And Deaton knows it. He knows exactly what he's asking her to sacrifice - and it isn't something as simple as her own life. She places a hand over her stomach, still flat. Peter doesn't know yet; Deaton had assured her that Peter wouldn't know until either Stiles broke down and told him or three months in, when her scent would recognizeably change.  


She could, theoretically, do this. She could climb into that tub and sacrifice herself to save her father, and in the process kill her unborn child. Theoretically, Peter would never know.  


Only, he would. Even if he didn't have his own ways of ferreting out information he obviously wasn't supposed to have, Stiles would never be able to keep something like that from him. Hell, just keeping quiet about the pregnancy in the first place has been straining their still-tentative relationship while she tried to figure out what the hell she is going to do if Peter didn't want her that permanently attatched to him, if he was just _using_ her.  


So. Decisions. She could swallow her reservations and sacrifice herself and commit murder while she was at it, or she could take her chances that her father could hold on long enough for someone to find them. She isn't stupid. She knows that no matter what she chooses to do tonight, she is going to lose. It's just a matter of deciding what is more important to her to save. Her child or her father - guilt for knowingly killing a defenseless, dependent lifeform or the guilt for killing her father through inaction. Either one has the potential to destroy her, and she knows it, just as she knows there is only one choice that would see her with Peter at her side. And if it were anyone but her father, she could make the decision just that easilly. For Peter, she is willing to give up a lot more than she probably should, but.... Not her daddy. Not him.   


Stiles loves her father, loves him more than is perhaps healthy or sane. For all that their relationship has been strained by the lies and secrets (and corpses) that have surrounded her lately, she loves him and knows that he loves her. But she also loves this child growing within her, loves it fiercely, and the mere thought of terminating it makes her heart feel like it's being shredded in her chest. She tries to imagine telling Peter that she killed his child, telling Derek that she killed his cousin, that her baby's life meant nothing in comparison to the merest chance to save her father, and she can't do it.  


She can't. She won't.  


In a way, she's known that is was going to come down to something like this. Her father would never have approved of Peter - one of the main reasons she never told him who it is she's been sneaking around with - and he certainly wouldn't approve of his 17-year-old daughter pregnant with a 34-year-old man's child. But, just like her decision about the pregnancy, this too has already been decided in her own head, even if she has shied away from the dark thoughts, hasn't it? She's allowed herself to become dependent on Peter, had done so knowing full well that there would be consequences, and the time has come to pay the piper.  


Her child, or her father. Her future with Peter, or one without him. She can't have both.  


She takes a deep, shuddering breath, hand fisting her shirt against her stomach, closes her eyes. "I can't do this," she says.  


Deaton sighs. "Stiles - "  


"No," she says sharply. "You, of all people in this room, know _exactly_ why I can't allow my body to be dead for sixteen hours, _regardless_ of whether or not Lydia could bring me back - _if_ she could bring me back at all, considering you also know _damn well_ that there are only three people with whom I have that kind of an emotional tether - two of which are not here, and the other is the very person making this even remotely necessary."  


"Stiles? What are you talking about?" Scott asks her quietly, voice small and confused. Allison and Isaac are watching her, clearly confused but willing to listen. Lydia, however, has this gleam in her eye, like she knows _exactly_ why Stiles isn't getting in the tub. And Stiles wouldn't put it pass her. Lydia has always been scary-smart, and Stiles hasn't exactly been subtle about her growing feelings for Peter.   


Stiles looks at each of them in turn, hand clenching in her shirt even tighter. "I'm pregnant," she says, admits out loud for others to hear for the first time since she had that severely awkward conversation with Deaton in the first place. For a brief moment, there is nothing but absolute silence as everyone takes a second to process this, and that's when shit hits the fan. They argue long into the night - the added revelation that the child is Peter's not helping matters at all - but what it all boils down to is that for the sacrifice to work, Stiles has to be willing, and she's not. She can't be.   


Even if that means she will now be an orphan.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonized for _days_ over Sheriff's fate in this universe, let me tell you.
> 
> In later drabbles, which I already have written (it's just a matter of typing them up and getting them proofed) readers will learn that things are a little more tense between the two of them than in canon. Part of this is because Stiles is an almost grown woman who's matured faster than she really should have for a variety of reasons (some canon, some fanon), and it's been my experience that a dad doesn't like to acknowledge or accept that his little girl is growing up. Part of this is also because the Sheriff isn't stupid or blind, and knows there's something going on between his daughter and a mysterious older man - and he is NOT happy about that or the fact that Stiles refuses to even tell him she's dating someone. The third part of this is Peter himself, and the influence he begins to wield on Stiles' psyche. 
> 
> Also, I have this head-canon that a Stiles with a kid - fetus or baby or otherwise - is a fiercely overprotective mama-bear who would do anything to ensure her child's safety. I really hope I conveyed that here, that while, yes, Peter is a factor in her decision, it's not the one that tips the scales. If it were just her life on the line, she would have no problem climbing into that tub, but it's not. 
> 
> So, yeah. Sheriff is going to die, but Stiles does get a farewell scene with him, so prepare for some major feels. (Also, I address a plot-point about the sacrifices that always bugged me about the canon, so I hope my explanation and theory helps with the blow.)


	3. Physical

**Prompt #36: Physical**

_(ˈfɪzɪk ə l)_

_— adjective_

_1.            of or relating to the body_

_2.            involving or requiring bodily contact_

_3.            perceptible to the senses; apparent_

No matter where Stiles goes, what she does, whose orders she follows, things get worse during the last two months of school. One would think that with the recent disaster of Gerard and the Kanima, that Beacon Hills would get a break. But, no. Random critters show up and make merry hell throughout Beacon Hills, and with Derek’s pack as decimated as it is, especially now that Scott has become persona non grata anywhere near Hale property, it is Stiles who tries to pick up the slack. She researches like her life depends on it - and it often does. She learns first aid and how to read Ancient Latin, German, and Aramaic to supplement the Russian her mother had taught her at a young age, and begins to complile a beastiary of their own. Derek does his best to teach her some self-defense, but he is not exactly a patient teacher, and she is not the most focused of students.

It makes for a volatile combination on the best of days.

And Peter is always there, watching her intently. Sometimes he compliments her on how well she is doing. Sometimes he gives her an encouraging pat on the back on the days Derek is being particularly difficult and storms off into the woods before he seriously hurts her. Unlike Derek, Peter never forgets that she is human, no matter how much like a wolf she can be, and is always there with cup of fresh water and a snack when she needs it. He helps her when she needs to research, and carefully begins to teach her magic. He draws her into intense discussions on the conflicting theories found throughout the various sources at their disposal, helping her to narrow down the information they add to the beastiary. And always, _always_ , it is with this focused look that radiates concern and determination in equal measures.

So used to his little touches of encouragement, she doesn't even notice when he starts to _really_ touch her. They are all casual touches, nothing overtly threatening in any manner. Simple touches, simple comfort, something any two humans, strangers or not, could give to one another without there needing to be declarations of love or affection or friendly intent. Safe touches, _always_. Nothing that would outwardly alarm, nothing that she could scream foul on. Once she does notice, though, it takes her only a few days of contemplation and carefully worded conversations with Deaton before she recognizes what Peter is doing.

He is _marking_ her, leaving his scent on her discreetly, almost distractedly. She would believe it is something Peter is doing absent-mindedly, if it were not how careful Peter is trying to be inconspicuous about it. Because when Derek’s around, Peter doesn't touch her at all. When he speaks to her, _if_ he speaks to her, it is always with this condescending drawl to his voice, so unlike his usual mild purr. When he looks at her, his face is twisted in dark amusement, with no hint of the concern he usually looks at her with. She wants to approach Derek about it, wants to know what game Peter is playing now, but at the same time, she really, _really_ does not want to say anything at all.

Stiles is not _stupid_. She doesn't trust Peter any farther than her ridiculously fragile human self could throw him, and she _knows_ Peter is up to _something_ by doing this. He is slick about it, she will give him that, but he gives himself away every time he chooses to hide this, whatever _this_ is. And there is a chance that if she draws Derek’s attention to what Peter is doing before Peter is ready, that the older man will stop touching her completely.

And maybe it is wrong of her to feel the way she does, but Stiles doesn't _want_ him to stop. What she went through that night in Gerard's basement, alone and in pain and only kept alive because she was more useful as a _living_ message, bent something in her. Learning what Scott did - and how he _dared_ justify it to Derek's face - broke it completely. She's healed, only a small, lingering twinge in her ribs when she over-exerts herself, but that place inside of her hasn't. It throbs every day with the reminder of what she's gone through, what she will continue to go through.

Stiles has come to find that she needs the simple human contact Peter is offering far too much to let it go. It soothes that dark throb inside of her, reminds her that she isn't alone, hasn't been abandoned. What Peter does tells that insecure, angry part of her psyche that she has someone who will tear apart the world to look for her should something go wrong again - and is capable of actually _doing_ so. 


	4. Afterthought

**Prompt #17: Afterthought**

[af-ter-thawt, ahf-]

  
noun

  
1\. a later or [second thought](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/second%20thought) ; reconsideration.

  
2\. reflection [after](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/after)  an act; an appropriate explanation, answer, expedient, or the like, conceived of too late for the occasion.

  
3\. something added, as a part or feature, that was not included in the original plan or design: The vestry was added to the church as an afterthought.

 

It should not surprise Stiles when Peter Hale slips in through her window. And it doesn’t, not really.

She had known the second she had seen that look on his face in the warehouse that their last conversation would be continued in one form or another. What she _is_ surprised about is the way he simply stares at her for a long, long moment before he reaches out and touches her face where the almighty bruise Gerard gave her has just barely started to _really_ fill in. It will be a nasty one by the time it’s finished.

The touch is tender, gentle in a way she hasn’t felt in quite some time. She can’t help the broken little whine that escapes her throat, or the tears that she hurriedly blinks back.

“Do you regret it?” he asks her quietly, settling his hand so that he is cupping her cheek.

His face is impassive, serene in a way, but too intense for true calm. There is something lurking just beneath the surface of his quiet, some unknown _threat_ waiting to rise, and that should frighten her. It _would_ have frightened her just a few days ago, to be in this very situation with a very much alive and whole Peter Hale, but right now, she is too tired, too heart-sick, too _hurt_ , to even muster a smidgeon of fear. Let what will come, come.

Stiles licks her too-dry lips. She doesn’t need clarification on what he’s asking. She thinks of the mini-war she’s smack dab in the center of – Derek’s little pack vs Scott’s rag-tag group of humans, part of both but not truly belonging to either – and all the pain, hurt, and frustration she’s put up with trying to get both sides to work together and _not kill her for it_. She thinks of Gerard, and how _easy_ it was for him to break her apart, how no one came for her, how no one thought to look for her except her poor, fragile, _human_ father. She thinks about holding a 200+ pound werewolf up in a swimming pool for just over 2 hours, and how she had been left to walk herself home, because no one had cared that she was a weak little human who didn’t heal muscle cramps as quickly as werewolves did. She thinks about slowly being abandoned by Scott for Allison and Isaac, and how the only interactions she’s had with other people recently are the ones she’s forced on them.

“Yes,” she admits, too tired to really care that she is in the grasp of a known monster, too tired to care that she is admitting weakness in the same breath. She meets his gaze steadily, feeling broken and hollow inside, all the parts of herself that she’s given away and those that were forcefully stolen from her throbbing with a phantom pain that lingers, festers, and throbs anew. “I regret it every day.”

He smiles crookedly at her. “I can’t turn you anymore,” he tells her seriously, flashing beta-blue eyes at her.

She shrugs. “I know,” she says sadly, pulling away from him. And just like that night in the garage, even though Peter has the strength to keep her pinned, he lets her go. And that, more than anything, is what tells her that whatever else Peter may be planning, whoever else he may hurt, she is safe with him. He may chase her and manipulate her and threaten her, but at the end of it all, he won’t force her into anything, won’t take away her choices. He won’t set out to _deliberately_ hurt her. Peter Hale may be a monster, but _he_ isn't the one she needs to fear.


	5. Weak

**Prompt #43: Weak(ness)**

[week]

adjective,

1\. not strong; liable to yield, [break](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/break), or collapse under pressure or strain; fragile; frail

2\. lacking in bodily strength or healthy vigor, as from age or sickness; feeble; infirm

3\. lacking in [force](http://click.reference.com/click/nn1ov4?clksite=dict&clkpage=dic&clkld=0&clkorgn=0&clkord=0&clkmod=1clk&clkitem=force&clkdest=http%3A%2F%2Fdictionary.reference.com%2Fbrowse%2Fforce), potency, or efficacy; impotent, ineffectual, or inadequate

 

It’s not – he’s not – Peter doesn’t usually do this, okay? He’s not a fucking pedophile. He doesn’t want to fuck children or teenagers, male or female. His tastes have never been that plebian. And until Stiles, he could even say that with a straight face. But Stiles ….dear mother moon, _Stiles_.

The girl was, _is_ , everything and anything Peter could have ever asked for. She is sly, quick witted, and amusingly blunt, with a certain disregard for moral, ethical, and legal standpoints that suits Peter and his plans to a T. The girl is stunningly loyal to precious few, and regards everyone else in one of two categories: toys or threats. The longer Peter watches her though, careful – so very, very careful – not to be seen, the more he realizes that there’s a certain vulnerability to Stiles that the girl does everything she can to hide. She snarks and snaps with the best of them, but is quick – too quick – to back down when threatened physically.

Stiles plays at being strong, and in her own way she is: Peter recognizes the hidden Spark within her, recognizes that if pushed hard and fast enough, this girl could move mountains through her sheer stubborn will. But all her strength and will is _nothing_ if she does not have a solid enough support base. She needs someone to guide her and control her, someone to keep her functional and sane. He could be that, for her.

It intrigues Peter, this hidden vulnerability, this inherent submissiveness. Her behavior triggers all those little instincts that is part and parcel of being an alpha, instincts he’d never wanted or even considered.

And he almost had her – the desperate want within her eyes tells him everything he needs to know. But she rejects him, outright lying to him, and he can see that no matter what he says she will not back down. So he lets her go.

He regrets that, later, when she flings a bottle of liquid fire at his face.

=

During the long months spent between life and death, alternatively trapped within his rotting body and within the (admittedly) amazing mind of dear Lydia, he contemplates that night in the garage. He goes over every word, every action, replays the scene over and over again, pondering where it was he went wrong.

Because it _was_ something he said, something he did. He knows it as well as he knows his own name. He _had_ her. He had her in his grasp, eyes wide and pupils dilated, breath quick and panting, heartbeat a quick staccato, face flushed. She had trembled in his grasp, and he had smelled her want, her aching need, and had known she was _his_. And somewhere between her allowing him to nuzzle against her wrist and actually biting, he had lost her.

Her sweet scent had soured with fear, with _hate_.

=

Lydia comes through, eager to get him out of her head, and he is reborn.

He leaves shortly after, straight for the little hideaway he had prepared just in case, because he had known there was a very good chance he might not have survived his tenure as Alpha. It is a smart move, because as soon as Derek recovers, Derek goes out hunting.

Peter is clever and quick though, even though he is weaker than he’s ever been in his life (if one doesn’t consider all those years spent in a coma). Thankfully, Derek seems to have other concerns, and quits trying to hunt him down after a few days. Peter uses the time wisely: he visits a few people that owed him some serious favors and gets himself set up with an apartment, a false identity (complete with social security number, tax history, and a relatively decent credit score), and has all the assets that had belonged to the Hale name that Derek apparently knew nothing about transferred to his shiny new bank account. He makes a show of moving into his apartment, making nice with the neighbors, re-learning how to charm people.

It’s been awhile, and he’ll need every ounce of it if he’s to worm his way back into Derek’s graces.

He’s not an alpha anymore, but neither is he truly a beta, just like he is neither living nor dead. He something betwixt and between, something _other_ , and until he can find someone, or _something_ , strong enough to act as a binding agent, he will remain that way. There are only three things he can think of off the top of his head that will help: becoming alpha again, being fully accepted into Derek’s pack as his beta (which will never happen, so he writes that off the list immediately), and finding a mate. Being alpha or having a mate-bond will settle his body firmly in the land of the living, and help finish healing what the ritual couldn’t.

But he doesn’t want to kill Derek. He will if he has to, but he doesn’t want to.

Thankfully, he knows that his actions as alpha will not go unnoticed. There will be plenty of alphas to choose from.

=

It’s not until he sees Stiles, and really, _truly_ gets a good look at her, that he finally understands where it is he went wrong that night in the garage. She is bruised and vulnerable, visibly breaking down before his very eyes, and _no one_ else is really noticing. He watches her watch the Lydia-and-Jackson sideshow, watches the longing in her eyes, watches the way she gingerly hugs herself.

It was the sales pitch he made.

He had offered her equality with Scott, a way to possibly one-up him, and that, he can see now, had _never_ been what she wanted. She wants someone to belong to, someone who won’t leave her, someone she can trust to care for her. Stiles is a smart girl, and Peter knows she is the one who helped trained his beta (because it certainly wasn’t Derek). It wouldn’t surprise Peter to know that she understood what the dynamics of being pack meant, and had longed for it.

He had offered her power when she had cared nothing for it, had offered her strength when all she wanted was comfort, had offered her something that must have sounded unbearably lonely when he should have offered her pack. He had been so heady with the power of being an alpha, had been so on edge because he had known everything would be done that night, that he had completely misjudged the girl.

More the fool him.

He grins at her when she first meets his gaze, because part of him still remembers burning _again_ and wants to _break_ her for it, but he can’t hold onto the notion. She is bruised and battered, quiet and withdrawn, and so close to breaking that something inside of him goes a little feral at the idea of someone _else_ putting their hands on her. If she should break at all, it should be at his hands. He’s been burnt to death because of her, he thinks he’s earned that right.

But he doesn’t want it. Can’t want it, not with visible, tangible proof standing right across from him that it doesn’t suit her. He wants to see her like she was in the garage, all biting sarcasm and quick wit, breathless and flushed, yearning for something she possibly didn’t even understand. And in his head, plans that he had made are scrapped, and he starts over again, because this time he has a better idea.

Going after an alpha as a beta that can’t even shift properly is risky in the extreme, but had been his only option if he didn’t want to spill Derek’s blood. But a mate? That would be so much easier to attain, especially with how vulnerable Stiles currently is.

=

He climbs through her window that very night, because he needs to know if this is even possible, if he should even attempt it, or if he should just go back to plotting ways to kill an alpha when he is so weak.

She faces him tiredly, subconsciously baring her neck to him. Under the light of her lamp, Peter can see in better detail the blooming bruise on her cheek, only hours old and already ugly. He can tell just by the way she stands and the shallow way she’s breathing that her ribs are fractured, though not broken. Someone worked her over good, and the lingering scent of _Argent_ tells him all he needs to know.

He trails his fingers across her cheek, touch light and gentle so as not to hurt her unnecessarily. The _noise_ she makes, a soft whimper barely bitten back, goes right to what little remains of his blackened heart.

“Do you regret it?” he asks her, curious despite himself. He wants to, no, _needs_ to know how far he has to go to win her over.

She looks at him, eyes so sad and tired, skin pale. She smiles, somewhat bitterly, and shrugs. “Yes,” she admits quietly, apparently not caring that she is admitting weakness to a known predator. Peter could kill her in the blink of an eye, because she is human and vulnerable and he is a monster: but she doesn’t care. Not right now.

And he sees that vulnerable doesn’t quite describe the state Stiles is in. Touch-starved and without a single person she can turn to for stable support, she is drowning beneath the pressure of being a human torn between two packs, defenseless against outside enemies with grudges against both. Her loyalty will break her, if she can’t find someone to latch onto more firmly.

 _Peter_ could be that person. He’s not capable of love, not anymore, but that’s alright. Stiles doesn’t _need_ love, though he has no doubt that she will come to love him if he plays his cards right. Stiles needs to belong, needs to be cared for and comforted, needs a rock to cling to. Those things Peter can do. Those things Peter _will_ do, because he _has_ her.

And this time he is _not_ going to make the mistake of letting her slip through his claws.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always taking Peter/Stiles prompts on my [Tumblr](http://labtrinthine.tumblr.com/), though I should warn you, I'm a pretty slow writer. XD Feel free to hit me up!


End file.
